


there is always light;

by bloodynargles



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Butchered Elven, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Missing Persons, Oral Sex, Pain, Vaginal Fingering, also, oh god im so sorry, ouchies callie what the fuck is this, probably, that should be a tag, ye thats here now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 02:18:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5112632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodynargles/pseuds/bloodynargles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They were small, little and fragile and... and i have failed them." "Fira-" "I was supposed to take care of them, Cassandra. Instead i left them in the middle of the night – when they were sound asleep, little heads inside the fade – because my own curiosity got the better of me! They are- were- my siblings. I left them and i should never have gone away. Ir abelas, i-" "We will find them, i promise." "I get the feeling you don't say that often." "Only when i mean it." </p><p>"Ma serannas." Its small and under her breath, but no doubt the other hears it, a silence settling between them – Althrael would adore Cassandra. Please let her get that chance, Creators, please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings;

**Author's Note:**

> i am so  
> wow callie.  
> i go on a writing break because of saltiness and i come back only to do this.  
> (elven: creators behold her, guide her among paths i cannot walk with her) plus the usual stuff.

"They were small, little and fragile and... and i have failed them." "Fira-" "I was supposed to take care of them, Cassandra. Instead i left them in the middle of the night – when they were sound asleep, little heads inside the fade – because my own curiosity got the better of me! They are- were- my siblings. I left them and i should never have gone away. Ir abelas, i-" "We will find them, i promise." "I get the feeling you don't say that often." "Only when i mean it."

"Ma serannas." Its small and under her breath, but no doubt the other hears it, a silence settling between them – Althrael would adore Cassandra. Please let her get that chance, Creators, please.

-

“We're old enough!” She can hear Oleander pleading he and Ala's case to the keeper from across the camp, out of the corner of her eye she can see the youngest pulling at the strands of her hair, almost nervous in her brother's presence. Fira isn't sure what has her on her end, but she'll find out before they make her set off for the conclave – she'd been told to spy on them, report back what the outcome was. She wasn't sure she entirely wanted to leave the twins behind.

Ollie was daring, and fast, nimble and quick with his staff – Mamae said once that if he hadn't been gifted with magic, he would have made a fine hunter, with the reflexes he so liked to boast about. Found often guarding Althrael, - much to her disdain – he repeats the words that father had taught him when they were young so often that they must be engrained into their minds, now. _Creators_ _emitha_ _a_ _sa, ghi'la_ _asa inor_ _vir ar tela vena vis asa._

Althrael was quiet, reserved and adored their history immensely, what little they had of it. Always had her head in a book or her hand reaching out to the halla that wandered with them, they _adored_ her. Fira supposes maybe they see kin, with the big doe eyes and white hair – or perhaps its the kindness she adopts so regularly that keeps them close. One of the hunters once said it was Ala who kept the halla around, and there is not many here who would like to challenge that.

She turns to the Keeper looking directly at Oleander with a harsh look, and he looks to Ala for help, the younger just shaking her head and throwing her hands up. “I told you it was a bad idea.” His mouth hangs open, obviously taking _some_ offence at his little sister not backing him up or believing in his 'plan', and no doubt was he about to whine about it. “You did not say it was bad! You made a face! Making faces doesn't mean bad things!!” Usually when Ala makes a face it means she's not listening and doesn't intend to, probably wasn't even there by choice, just dragged to the Keeper by the arm and told to smile. Well, that's usually what happens when he gets in trouble, anyway.

Fira knows that the Keeper wouldn't let them leave, she suspects that Ollie's about to get halla poop cleaning duty, what she doesn't suspect is to be asked her opinion – to which she stares, wide eyed and completely surprised that she was even being pulled into the twins' mess. “I ah...uh..” Oleander is staring at her, an excited puppy smile stretching across his face, - Althrael just looks worried. Oh creators, she's going to regret this. “I suppose it would be good for them to experience the outside world. With supervision, of course.” Ala is close to rapidly shaking her head, for fear of having to leave her books behind, what would she do without words to take her away from her brother's useless, excited blabber. “I am sure you will protect them with your life, Fira. It is settled then, you set off at dawn.” The Keeper smiles slightly and leaves, casting a glance in Althrael's direction before she goes, obviously amused at what she sees.

 

-

“No.” “ _Althrael_.” The exasperated look on the silver haired elf's face almost mirrored her twin's, who was trying to pull a book – an _old_ book – from his sister's hands. “What if we need it? What if I-” “We will _totally_ need a book on Elvhen.. uh..” He flips the book over in his hands, after prying it from Ala's small ones, squinting at small writing on the bind. “...Nursery rhymes.” “I mean-” “ _Nursery rhymes_ , Ala. How- When...- No! No.” “I like them!” “Do you even understand them?” A pout works its way onto the little one's lips, her voice falling quiet as she mumbles, playing with her hands absently, “Most of them.. More than you!” Fira steps forward at that, knowing the only thing that would be destroyed in this petty fight would be the book, grabbing it from Oleander's hands and shaking her head at Ala's longing look. “It stays. We have better things to prepare than fighting over which books to take.”

 

Maybe she should have let them fight a little longer. Creators, what did she _do?_

 


	2. Brother;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She missed them. Of course she did, who wouldn't? They have to be safe, Oleander is good at finding small places to camp, Althrael is good at spotting the safe animals to kill – they know what to do to survive. They'll be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually like this chapter, idk. i like the end a lot. i feel like they would have those talks.

She comes trudging back from the Hinterlands with soggy boots and not much to report other than the fact that most of the rifts that plagued the people there were now taken care of. Josephine gives her a tight, almost trying to be reassuring smile as she walks past her desk to get to the war room, a heavy hearted, half smile in return gets her almost pity and she has to stop herself from bolting back to her room to sob. She missed them. Of course she did, who wouldn't? They have to be safe, Oleander is good at finding small places to camp, Althrael is good at spotting the safe animals to kill – they know what to do to survive. They'll be alright. She knows that if she didn't tell herself that every waking moment she would falter, and the people who were here, _counting_ on her, would see that she really didn't know anything about what was happening here.

 

Twenty-seven. Almost old enough to be called 'old', and yet here she was, traipsing around the countryside with this damned anchor in her hand, and there was people calling her a Herald of a woman who she didn't even _believe_ in. The Keeper had told her humans were different, but _creators_.

 

She presses her palms against the war table, searching for something to put her time into other than thoughts of the twins, out there somewhere in the cold, most likely battling off monsters and what if- What if they thought _she_ was dead?

 

“Inquisitor Lavellan!”

 

Cullen cuts off her train of thought, and some day soon she ought to thank him for having that kind of timing, but he probably wouldn't appreciate it as much as she does. Her long hair moves with her, a strand falling across her eyes as she turns her head to the oncoming figure of the commander, his sigh as he came to a stop beside her a little reminder that she wasn't the only one in pain. “The scouts came back from the area you described,” He hesitates slightly, shifting his weight and wetting his lips before reaching out the letter out to her. “Report for you.” His eyes are warm, an unforgiving hardness coating slight sadness and her heart sinks before she can even look at the words.

 

'A snuffed out camp-fire and a several week old corpse were all that was found. Dragging marks in the snow indicate something was moved, possibly the body or perhaps something else? Inconclusive. The victim is not recognizable, fire magic was clearly the end of their life. An elven book was found nearby, was sent to Solas for translation. No signs of travelling near or around the camp-site, although the snowfall could have covered footprints.'

 

“Not there.” He breathes a sigh, “It is a sign, of life, at least. Defence. They are both mages, yes?” Fira nods slowly, her body almost frozen, somewhere a little glimmer of hope shone bright, but still she had the urge to rip Althrael's book from the elven apostate's hands. “Oleander is fire, Althrael is cold. Opposites.” Cullen nods slightly. He's being _soft_ with her, careful and trying to stray away from the obvious. They were most likely hurt. “Is there.. anywhere they would have strayed back to? A camp further down the trail, perhaps? Somewhere they would have found safety?” Leads. They needed leads, but she couldn't think, couldn't breathe other than to _see_ the book, run her fingers over the cover to feel closer to the little one. “I.. I need to think.. I can't, I..” She notices a slight pressure on her arm and looks down to see the other's hand, a comfort, she knew. A glance is thrown up to him, before she pulls away, promising with a look to give him locations before the end of the day. She has to get out. The closeness of the stone walls making her feel trapped, her breathing becoming short and winded, she fights her way through nobles in the main hall, past a slightly worried looking dwarf and out the door, the cold air hitting her in the face. She knows where Cassandra was, but she also knows that she'll only get the other worked up into almost going out there herself – and that wasn't ideal. Her legs numbly stumble down the stairs, and when she comes to next she's crumpled down on her behind beside Blackwall, an odd look on his face as he pats her shoulder slightly. “Heard the scouts came back.” She nods, and the conversation trails off before it starts, the both of them sitting in silence, the odd shuffle of hooves coming from the stables beside them. She needed this. Quiet. Somewhere where the tears that poured down her face weren't seen as a sign of anything other than pain. The sun has set under the clouds before she speaks, eyes burning with hot tears, cheeks wet and a sniffle audible in her voice. “He would give his life for her.” He's listening, not looking, but he's there and his fingers still, pulling the tool he was using away from the carving. “He teases her desperately, but.. He would never let her die first. Never.” Tears streak down her face faster than she could reach to wipe them away, if she could bother to, her limbs numb at the thought of- of- “Sounds like a good brother.” She nods, sniffing uselessly and staring at the ground, her mind farther away than it seemed. “He is.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seriously like the blackwall talk. so muuuch. there's not a lot of romance in this. fox is going to be in and out, and i doubt you'll get much of a peep out of her and cullen's romance, the solas/althrael and dorian/oleander romances are maybe's and cass/fira will pop in and out, but wont necessarily romancey. solas turns up next chapter, be ready.


	3. Preservation;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She shouldn't be this numb about it all, they were alive, as far as they knew. That was a cause of celebration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was super short when i first copy and pasted it? so i added more so it would satisfy you all for a day or so. posting this early for Lucie, need to continue that pain traaaaiinnn.

At some point she had gotten herself back to the war table to point out the camps she could remember staying at along the path, but how she got to bed she hasn't a clue. She shouldn't be this numb about it all, they were alive, as far as they knew. That was a cause of celebration. But all she could think of was what ifs and worst case scenarios, typical, that's what Ala would say, the closest to teasing that she has ever gotten from the da'len. 

-

“I liked snow. Until right now.” Fira looks back at Oleander as he trudges along the narrow path up the snowy hill, a quiet laugh on her lips as she urges them on, Ala's small frame catching her eyes as she shivers slightly, a blanket of worry falling over her. Slowing down slightly, she shrugs the backpack off enough to get a jumper from the top of it, tossing it to Ollie, gesturing for him to give it to the youngest. Instead of just giving it to her willing hands, being the older brother he is, he takes her stave off of her shoulder, and shoves the garment over her head, barely letting her get her arms through the sleeves before smiling triumphantly and patting her on the shoulder, much to a begrudging look from Althrael as she snatches back her stave and continues up the hill, trying to get away from him.

They settle, later, when the sun dips below the horizon and it becomes to dark to continue on, Ollie's complaining about the snow making his boots wet gets a sarcastic reply from Ala that keeps him quiet for at least an hour before Fira decides its time to set up camp and lets him go looking for somewhere quiet in the immediate area. She settles beside her sister on a fallen log, Althrael poking at something on her stave before Fira reaches out to adjust the jumper instinctively, pulling at the collar so that it covered her frame better, a slightly bothered look on the other's face as she tries to push the older one's hands away. “I'm twenty-three, Fira. I can take care of myself, you know.” Her older sister sticks out her tongue as she successfully stops her from fussing, a pout lingering on Ala's face afterwards. Ollie returns later, triumphantly declaring that there's a cave nearby that would suit them well, though a few nugs had called it home, but Althrael had already gone ahead at the mention of nugs and he sighs, running after and dragging her in the right direction.

-

She floats off to sleep, after that, her body too tired to think of anything anymore. Her dreams are uneventful and she wakes in the middle of the night, clamouring to get out of her quarters and somewhere else, _anywhere_ else. Pulling herself up, she grabs a pair of, mostly clean, breeches from the chair beside the bed, shoving her legs into them and trying not to fall down the stairs at the same time. Quietly, she creeps out into the main hall, the usual liveliness having quietened down earlier in the night, the nobles retiring to their rooms to sleep on lighter minds. She pushes the door to the rotunda open, not expecting to see anyone else awake at this time, but there he is, half awake and studying something open on his desk. He doesn't look up to her when she wanders in, eyes clearly searching for Althrael's book, “It is remarkably well preserved.” His voice startles her, slightly, the silence of the room only disturbed by the faint whispers of the veilfire, which were somehow soothing in a way, she wasn't sure. “She liked to keep them that way.” Her own is hoarse, from the crying or lack of water, it could be both, but it causes Solas to glance up at her, his eyebrows knitting together, showing the slightest of worry in his usually calm features. His fingers ghost over the cover of the book before he picks it up, reaching it out to her, which she takes with shaky hands, silence settling over the both of them as she traces the book with her finger, his lingering eyes watching her carefully. “They will be alright, Lavellan.” His voice breaches the quiet after some time, and she sucks in a breath to reply, strength somehow surfacing in her words. “I know. I'll storm the Fade if they aren't.” He chuckles at that, a light noise that echoes. “I have no doubt that you would.”

She doesn't quite remember getting back to bed, presumes at some point the elven apostate had given her sass and a stern look and she begrudgingly went on her way. Solas is a strange one, sometimes. But she isn't quite sure where the Inquisition would be without him, and they do get on rather well, but she supposes that's up to her asking questions of the fade so much – something she feels Althrael would do. Wide olive green eyes staring up at him, chewing on her bottom lip as he answered, chin rested in her palms. Always one for learning, asking too many questions about subjects that were probably not appropriate at the time, never knew when to stop. In a way, she could see Solas and Althrael being much more – but that was just a dream.

Can see them everywhere, in Skyhold. Ala making flower crowns and studying with the sunlight glaring down on her in the garden, Ollie running his mouth in the library, probably winding up Dorian in the process. They would- _will_ fit in here. They will come home.

She has to be sure of that, if nothing else, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't ever doubt the fact that Althrael would totally make Solas a flower crown. and that Leliana would buy them.


	4. Hope;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How was she supposed to tell the Keeper that Fira was gone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am sorry for the pov at the start of this. ouchies.

It was so _cold_. She's been thrown into cold water before, Oleander laughing in the background as she pulls herself onto the shore, a scowl on her face as she huffs past him to get to the camp, to the _clan_. How was she supposed to tell the Keeper that Fira was gone? Ollie's chest is rising and falling in a steady rhythm, the wound from the man's blade wrapped as well as she could possibly in this weather, in this terrain, in this _hell_ of a place. The soft flickers of the camp-fire close by soothes her, but still she doesn't know how they'll get out of this. Even if they were found by humans, what would happen then? Interrogation – or- or worse. It'll be no good wishing that Fira was here, wishing that they could go back, wishing that they had never came at all, she had to be _here_ and right now. If she wasn't, if she didn't step up, Oleander was going to die. Creators, she didn't want to be alone.

-

She was staring down at a scout report. _Footprints_. In the snow.

 

'Small and dainty, possibly heavy footed, due to carrying something or someone. Odd circular holes in the snow, matched the end of a stave. But only one. One set of footprints. One stave. I know no one wants to say it, but it looks meek – the possibility of _both_ of them being found alive. Or surviving the way back, depending how far out they are.

 

Found charred animal carcasses nearby. Have healers on hand in case we do come across either of them. But there was blood. Quite a lot of blood. Healer with us said it could be too much lost to live. Commander – I know we shouldn't get attached to finding people, we've lost enough already, but... But I’d really like to find them both.

Camp-fire snuffed out by ice. No way it could have gotten that way without a mage. There is hope, Inquisitor.'

 

A breath rips through her chest as she sits in the tent in the middle of The Western Approach, the sounds of hyenas howling the only sound besides the wind. Sand beats off of the canvas and she can vaguely remember when the twins were little, Ala pulling at mamae's jumper with little hands, a small halla figurine on a chord around her neck. She adored the halla, especially when she was little. They adored her, too. They were so _small_.

 

“Go to sleep, Herald.” A familiar voice pulls her from her thoughts, _Cassandra's_ voice. Its groggy and half asleep, a soft smile forming on her face before she tucks the report back inside her backpack, shimmying down to lay her head to rest.

 

The nights spent in the fade are never nice, especially not now. After the breach they became... confusing, to say the least. She doesn't particularly remember much about how she got the mark, how she even _got_ to where she- It was confusing. Particularly terrifying, too. She had never found much comfort in her dreams, parents dying when they were young, Oleander turning more reckless by the second, it was all ramped up in there. Now with the demons and the twins weren't at her side and this _stupid_ mark, she didn't know what to do, who to listen to, what to say to make it _right_. She just wanted her siblings back, she wanted the world to be peaceful again – she wanted to go back to the beginning and make them _stay_.

 

But there are bigger responsibilities on her shoulders now – and the fade lovingly recreates those horrors for her at night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp. at least theres a timeline now?


	5. Fading;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Creators, even Fen'Harel would do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a hate/love kinda situation. also moo wont let me type goddamnit kitty.

Stroud had stayed in the fade. Sacrificed himself for them, for their escape. A valiant warrior, a bright light in the dim future for the Wardens of Orlais – something to strive to, and Creators does she want to tell them to _stop_. He shouldn't be dead. There shouldn't have been a choice – they should have _never_ been able to be in the fade without being asleep. It was _wrong_ and she felt as though a thousand bugs were crawling all over her at once, Cassandra's side looks of worry making her feel worse as the days went on after that. Hawke reported back to Weisshaupt and her companions look as bad as she feels for putting them there. Solas was excited, Cole was- he felt _wrong_ , and she didn't blame him. They both seemed to calm down, the mage stopping Cole from breaking down and Solas just seemed to get less and less thrilled about it all.

 

It had been so hectic she hadn't had time or the thought to ask of the scouts and their findings, she doubted Cullen had even read the report, his eyes heavy as they climb up a hill side by side. “Do you miss her?” They didn't talk much of Fox, she wasn't always around Skyhold much, but he seemed happier when she was, for all the mischief she got up to. A soft smile makes its way onto his lips and Fira really didn't need to ask the question, did she? “Always, Lavellan.” He wrings his hands together, the slightly warmer weather appreciated before they hit the Frostbacks. “She has.. things to run from, even now. I understand that. I just hope that when this is all over... I could.. we could... _be._ It seems petty, but after all of this, the war, after Kirkwall – I just want her.” Fira knew how the commander had thought Fox dead, she can remember his eyes glazing slightly before he shook himself from the memory, asking to speak of something else, a pleading tone behind his words. “Its not- you deserve it. Both of you.” A smile is thrown his way, the warmth behind his eyes before he looks away reminds her of her pap, and somewhere she feels herself drown a little more.

 

-

She'd curled up next to him at some point, the shivering getting worse. Can't leave him here, can't go on without him. He hadn't woke in a while, his breathing was shallower than before. Dying. She couldn't help him, she couldn't save him, she couldn't return the love and care he had always shown her. She was a failure. Wanted to beg, to anyone, any god, it didn't matter now – they were all real to someone, somewhere. Maybe if she could just believe in something, maybe if she could plead her brother's case to the right one- or maybe her efforts were futile and this was their fate. To die in a cave amongst the snow and ice. Mythal- _anyone?_

 

Creators, even Fen'Harel would do.

 

 

There's footsteps on snow when she wakes, a crunching noise outside the mouth of the cave but she's too weak to call out, limbs frozen and she can hear _yelling_ , somewhere. Her eyes move slowly towards Ollie, his face almost drained of color, and she lets out a strangled sob before she can't keep her eyes open anymore. She _failed_.

 

“There's a- I think I found them! Elves, elves, two of them! Come quickly, bring the healer!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOX!!!! BAB. also. ahh yeah. yeeep.


	6. Hello?;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Give report to Lady Nightingale, on Scout orders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahahahahahahahhaahhahahahahahahhahahahahahahhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaahahahhahahahahahahaahhaahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahah

'Found in a cave further down the mountain than the original camp suggested to be searched. Immediate help requested. I know things are swamped over there but we _need_ assistance urgently. On your report we'll send a scout. Please commander, they wont live much longer.'

 

'Its been two days since we found the twins. I'm worried that our report was intercepted, I haven't told the others for fear of hearing of the elves' conditions. One has knife wounds, the other has a fever we can't control. Can't keep them warm enough for it to break. The healer is worried we're running out of elfroot, sent a patrol out into the mountains gather herbs – they haven't returned yet. Maker bless us, please.

 

Give report to Lady Nightingale, on Scout orders.'

 

'We moved camps, a snowstorm coming in from the north, found shelter just before it hit. The twins are touch and go, healer doesn't know if they'll make it to Skyhold. Will attempt to get as far as we can, though a patrol that came back not an hour ago reports a mass amount of rubble moved downhill at some point after the conclave explosion, or Haven. We're not quite sure where we are, having gotten turned around in the moving, but we're going towards the direction of Skyhold, i'm sure of it. Hopefully we'll hit a landmark, soon. Patrol in last report managed to find elfroot and a few other herbs, we're holding on, for now.'

 

'Hit the trail carved into the snow to Skyhold early this morning, had to settle nearby not soon after, the healer wanting to check the twins' conditions. On writing this, i'm not sure why no one has replied to our reports, the bird comes back fine each time, no signs of trapping – what's going on up there? Did something happen at Adamant that no one can put into words?'

 

'Ran into wraiths along the path, shouldn't be this far up, need to talk to the commander about that when we get back. Not sure how long that'll be, now. Its hard enough with two patients, but the constant need to keep them alive and not on the brink of dying is slowing us down considerably. Haven't seen any Inquisition soldiers on the path, or on patrol at all – i'm not sure what we're coming back to, to be honest. Haven't had a reply in almost a week and a half. The Inquisitor is back by now, right?'

 

'Ran out of elfroot, trying to pick up any we see along the path but supplies are scarce. I don't know what's happening anymore, all I know is that we need to get them both to safety immediately. To warm beds and a good supply of healing herbs.'

 

'Hello? Is anyone reading these? Commander? Lady Nightingale? Ambassador? Hello?'

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no chapter on the 13th!! im going out and wont have time to post, so double chapter on the 15th! i.e i need to go into hibernation tomorrow and write at least one chapter.


	7. Uneven Odds;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its late because i didn't write anything yesterday like a poop. also reminder that no chapter on the 13th!

Anger was bubbling up at the letters in her hands, seven reports. Seven! The scout patrol hadn't been encountered as they headed up the hill towards Skyhold, and they weren't inside, either. Despair pulled at her heart as she sunk down onto the bed in her quarters, Cassandra had promised she'd be back soon, a grunted mumble about finding clean water to bathe in. That was before she'd opened the reports – a warm smile and wandering eyes as she watched her lover leave, a safe feeling spreading within her – but now, now all she wanted to do was _hit_ something. She wanted to find the patrol, she wanted to find the scout who received the reports and _put them on the war table_ , where no one would see them, not at least for a couple of weeks. Her breaths were getting caught in her throat, chest tight as she dry sobs, her anger dissolving into sadness. What were they're chances, now? The last report was dated as four days ago – a lot can change within four days, especially with the conditions they were describing, and those that they lived in, constantly moving, even with elfroot and good measures by the healer, its probable that only one will live through it, if either.

 

Her feet carry her down the stairs and into the main hall, ignoring the looks she procured from visiting nobles, she pushed her way into the rotunda, slapping the reports down onto the other elf's desk, pleading in her voice. “You helped me, Solas. You know more about elves than anyone I’ve ever known. Help. _Please_.” Her knees are shaking and the other's concerned stare as he reaches for the letters doesn't waver from her face, long fingers shuffling them into place before his blue orbs drop to the words, his mouth opening slightly as he reads along the first report. “I am no healer, Lavellan.” His voice is soft, and somewhere she remembers the feeling of wariness that she had of him when they first met, the argument they had had about the Dalish, versus whatever he was, or claimed to be – she hadn't trusted him. Now she was pleading with him to help her siblings, pull them from the fade, their seemingly endless living sleep the only thing separating them from this world and the fade. She has so many words that she can't seem to say, throat closing and mouth refusing, she pulls a breath from her chest through her nose, swallowing harshly, trying to get a hold of herself. His eyes flicker back up to her for a second, before he looks back down, nodding slightly before speaking, perhaps only to still her, or continue her faith in him, his voice a light in her perpetual darkness, “But I will try, nonetheless. If I can do anything to help them, I will, Fira.”

 

 

She curls up to Cass' warm body later, the fade and her dreams a welcome distraction, for once. Those dreams with her parents, pap twirling her around and around, mamae softly chuckling at the twins in the background – she knows it all falls into nothing, in the end, that one day papae would never come back from a hunt, and that mamae's sickness would take hold and Falon'Din would take her to peace, to pap and good health. That she would be left to fend for the twins, the guidance of the keeper close by but somehow never close enough. She was all they had left. They couldn't leave her, not now. Mythal protect them.

 

 

A patrol of soldiers is sent out to look for the scouts and her siblings, Fira picking at her nails as they wait for a reply, a signal, a _something_. Blankets are prepared, beds and rooms are cleaned, food made for the scouts, elfroot picked from the garden and healing potions brewed, the surgeon ready just in case. Cassandra insisted she be informed when the patrol returns, to help them through the gates in any way she could, Leliana and Cullen promising extra soldiers and hands if need be – Solas standing beside her with an unwavering presence, calming her and letting her know that he will be there to pull them from their dreams. Varric pats her on the arm and Cole lingers, never quite in the same place but always there, to _help_ , even though he couldn't bring them back safe and sound, he speaks, a comfort while Josephine smacks at her hands with the gentlest of touches, telling her off about picking at her hands. She'd bring them home, make them better and never ever take their laughing, their teasing, their _light_ for granted again.

 

She'd defeat Corypheus and she'd make sure the breach stays closed, lives returned to normal and other things to focus on rather than their seemingly impending doom. The twins will grow and flourish and make their own mark upon the world, and she will make sure that _nothing_ will stand in their way, that no one will make them unhappy, or may they face the wrath of Inquisitor Lavellan. They'll live.

 

They'll stay alive.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have strayed from my one word chapter names, :O shock.
> 
> (EGG!! EGG!! EGG!! EGG!!!!!!!!!!)


	8. Silence;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> schedule change? only one chapter today since im not feeling too well. but a thousand word chapter though so get some tea! :D

They arrive at midnight three days later, the moons high in the sky and clouds covering most of the stars. Cassandra wakes first, the distant sound of hooves pulling her from the fade, Fira's nightmare pushing her deeper into a never-ending darkness. She presses a kiss to the other's forehead after pulling clothes over her frame, not bothering to pin her braid, her curiosity and hope getting the better of her. The loss of her lover's heat beside her disturbs Fira slightly, but the fade was not done with her yet, and so she did not stir as Cass creeped down the stairs, careful not to make noise for fear of waking the other.

 

Cullen is staring down at letters with bleary eyes when the warrior makes it to the main hall, the walls eerily silent as her half tiptoed footsteps echo off of them. He barely acknowledges her presence, a hand running through his curls as he leans his back in his chair, putting his feet up onto the wooden table. Normally she'd chastise him for such an action, but right now she doesn't quite blame him, though the hunch in his shoulders was beginning to irk her slightly.

 

It could just be her imagination, the courtyard seemingly bare as she shuffled her way to the gates, sparing a look to the dimly lit tavern as she wanders past, a half thought spared to Bull, who she knew was wide awake inside the warm walls. Footsteps make dim noises on the stone stairs, hand reached out to the wall to focus herself, promising not to tell Fira if it was just a false alarm, not to get her hopes up. There's a tired soldier goading the horses into the stables and absently she wondered if the warden was awake, too. Her eyes glance around wearily before the other notices her, a stifled yawn stopping him in his tracks before he can answer her unspoken question. “Took 'em into the barracks, only place where someone's 'wake at this time of night.” A picture she must look, sneaking around in the courtyard, in hastily pulled on breeches, which, she was sure were on the wrong way and a crinkled sleeping shirt, the cold air leaving goosebumps on the back of her neck and down her shoulders. There's a half nod shared between them, one in thanks and one in respect, in welcome at giving information that was needed before she tiptoes off to the fading lights that illuminated the doorway leading to the soldier's quarters.

 

The door makes little sound as she pushes it open, but her eyes meet those of a weary, impossibly tired looking healer and... Solas. The healer slinks off a little while after, Cassandra having settled herself in the corner, beside one of the twins, their chest rising and falling lightly out of the corner of her eye. “I stumbled upon them in my sleep, the youngest one's yelling to loud for me to bear.” His hand ghosts over the one she presumes is Althrael's arm, fingers lingering at her wrist, his eyes sad but somehow hopeful and she wonders if for a second she had imagined the slight shake in his hand as it hovered, as it was gone as soon as her eyes graced upon it. “What..” Her voice is hoarse, quiet and barely audible to anyone else but herself, “Do we know..” It is not much louder, on the second try, but loud enough, it seems, as his orbs flicker to her, pulling him from his thoughts. “The healer has done well. There is enough heat in their bodies that they will survive, to what extent... At what point they will wake, I am not sure.” Her eyes glance to the recently lit fire on the other side of the room, the flames caressing the logs as they bite away at them, absently she wonders if either of them will ever be the same as they were before, not just from the world changing around them, but the effects of being out there for so long. They are competent, it has been what has gotten Fira through all of this – they know how to keep themselves warm, they know how to defend themselves, care for each other. A thought passes through her mind that chills her to her core. What if they don't know each other when they wake? What if they do not know Fira?

 

Her mouth moves before she has the sense to stop it, the thought burning in her mind, the heat of it becoming too much to bare on her own two shoulders. “Do you know if they will remember much, when they wake? Will their memory still serve them correctly?” His breath catches in his chest, and Cassandra's heart sinks at that, her hand absently reaching to rest on Oleander's wrist, quietly counting the thrumming beats of his heart against her fingers. “Amnesia is... _common_ in patients who have been in a comatose state for... as long as they.” Solas' eyelids slide closed, as if he had failed to think of it, the dejected tone in his voice confirming her thought, his eyebrows furrowing as he kicks himself mentally.

 

Silence sits heavy between them as the night goes on, dawn rising with pale skies and a vague bustle of people waking, awaiting inspection from their commander. There are a few who pass by with sadness etched on their faces, some with a hopeful, pitiful look thrown the twins' way as they make their way to their post, or to the mess where warm food is there to fill their bellies. Cassandra feels sick at the thought of food, somewhere she imagines Solas feels quite the same. He shifts, and if she stretches her neck slightly she can see his fingers ghosting patterns across the soft skin on Althrael's wrist, somewhere alarm bells were ringing in her mind, the gesture seeming too affectionate, too intimate for just an unconscious patient and a healer. But he travels the fade, does he not? Does it not mean he could pry someone from their own dream, their own nightmare, give them the tools to get out? Her mind floats away with her as her heavy eyes pull her into a sleep of necessity, not want. The lingering thought of just how Fira was going to react to this situation a harsh reminder of what they had yet to endure. She does not know if.... Could her lover, the _Inquisitor_ , cope with this? Andraste give her the strength to get through.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly as of typing this i have no actual idea what happens in this hold on.
> 
> edit: oh ohhhh solas. ohh now i remember. yeah i had to look up stuff for this. dont go into my browser history its weird in there.   
> eehheeeeeeeeeehehheeee Egg has been doing his egg thing again.


	9. Salvation;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eyes turn back to where the path was – gone too. The way to Fira was gone, should have stayed on the path! Should have stayed on the – who is Fira?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is late and longer than the last? wow. also elvhen in this. translations at the end.

Following a path up a mountain close to where the clan had settled last, the soft, bubbling streams that once flowed with water now are red, thicker and darker than the blood that comes from a light nip on your fingertip. Feet torn, with cuts on the soles of their feet, bruises from binds on their ankles, hurting as they climb up the path – should have worn shoes with soles. Hands clench, eyes straining to see up the never-ending steep climb to the top, where- Where?

The scene changes, the fade festering on their deepest nightmares, their deepest fears that surface in their mind when they find themselves in a quiet moment, free of worries but not of fear. Fira. Have to get to Fira – but there's people screaming, yelling out but there's no one around, what if they strayed off of the path, just to help someone? Yes, that small child with small hands and pointy ears, help her. Settles down beside the da'lan, reaching out to put pressure on a knife wound inflicted by human hands. The little one croaks, her throat dry. Need water, but everything is blood – looks back, gone. Eyes staring up to the sky, soft rosy cheeks draining of colour, head resting against soil created by Mythal, small red curls framing her face. _Ela Falon'Din ma ghi'la, da'lan._

Eyes turn back to where the path was – gone too. The way to Fira was gone, should have stayed on the path! Should have stayed on the – who is Fira?

 

 

Small fingers pulling at hair, twisting their curls around their fingers just for that small release of pain. Slight daisies nestled into them, seemingly staying and never moving, never decaying while the world around them does. Flecks of paint that the Orlesian humans use to make their stolen palaces colourful float by, and somewhere, if you listen closely, you can hear their cries. Twisted men who walked all over the people and thought they could destroy what has been built up for centuries since the Exalted March they held on us, yet now their corpses lay heavy on the ground, decaying while the people live on. Hums a soft tune, one they can only remember in mamae's voice, crossing their legs as they sit upon the earth, hands returning to thread small flower buds though stems with the most delicate touch. The soft sound of an approaching halla makes their orbs shift, look up to the creature and reach out a hand, but it turns away, no longer trusting them with their lives. Eyes turn hard, did this for _her_ , they should be happy that the men who oppressed them are gone. The halla falls, dead. They should be _grateful_.

 

 

Everything is _green_ , a colour they did not like. The sky, the trees, the ground that their small feet make dull sounds upon as they walk, almost at the top of the never-ending hill. They can see the soft blues that they miss so much, the once distant laughter and joyous sounds of the clan celebrating now loud and happy in their ears. Hands reach to pull themselves up a rock that was blocking their way, eyes looking up from the green, green ground to – nothing.

Freezes, snarls out into the distance where they should be, a sob being pulled from their throat as they sit upon the rock, staring out into the nothing, the happy sounds still filling their ears, yet nothing was there. Fiddles with their fingers, tries to pretend that nothing.. that this was not real but it _was_. And they are gone.

She _failed_.

 

“Da'lan?” Golden-green orbs flicker to the source of the voice, hands stilling, the lump in her throat heavy and hot tears threatening to blur her vision. He kneels down to her small frame, reaching out with a soft touch to wipe away the tears that had stained her cheeks previously, a slight callous on his thumb as he runs it across her cheek, his hand lingering there before he pulls away. “You did not fail, Althrael.” His own eyes are sad, but yet they sparkle with the unknown and she leans towards him slightly in the attempt to figure out what it was. The blue chills her to the bone, but invite her in as he slowly relaxes around her, the sadness in them never fading, but never always visible, like he hides it for only certain people to see – or he could not control it, here. “They are gone.” He feels familiar, but she knows they have never met before, never crossed paths with elves like him before. His voice is smooth when he talks, his accent different to that of any clan she has come across, when they cross into each other's lives while travelling to get away from the perils of staying so close to a human city. “Your dreams are what you make them, lethal'lan. They are not gone.” She wants to ask a question, but she cannot seem to remember of whom she was asking of, not Oleander, no he was – he was _dead_. A whine falls from her lips as she covers her face with her hands, body shaking as she sobs into them. He was dead, he was gone, she had failed, she had- “I am asleep?” If this were all a dream, if she were back with- with- who? He nods softly, hand reaching out to pull her other hand from her face, taking it gently between his warm palms. “I cannot remember who she is. Who is she?” Confusion racks her mind for an answer that she knows she knows, but cannot seem to find, like her own head has locked her out from the truth. His fingers idly trace patterns across the soft skin on her wrist and it calms her slightly, the shaky breaths that were the product of her tears subside, if just for a moment. “I will explain when you wake, da'lan. Ar dir'vhen'an.” She breathes to answer, but it seems slower and laboured, a struggle to push the air through her chest, she's _tired_ , eyelids feeling heavy and seeming to close without her will.

 

She wakes in a dimly lit room, a continuous shiver running throughout her whole body, teeth chattering even though she was sweating, blankets covering her frame tightly, tucked behind her like a newborn baby in a small cocoon to keep them warm. She was not a newborn child. Her eyes flicker to her right, an empty chair where she could have sworn someone was just a moment ago, watching over her as she slept, as she woke. There's a heat to her left and her neck hurts slightly as she moves it to glance upon Oleander, eyes closed and his long silvery hair tied back neatly. She sucks a breath in through her nose to stop the sob that she's sure would hurt her whole body if it were to come out, her eyes spy upon his rising chest and she relaxes slightly, olive orbs watching him intently.

“You are awake.” The obvious statement comes from beside her, where the empty chair was before, now a tall, bald elf sits in it, surprise and relief littering his voice, and she can vaguely remember him from her dreams. She coughs slightly, throat dry as she attempts to speak, the snark in her tone hardly a welcoming thanks to the other. “An astute observation.” It earns her a snort and a laugh from two different people on the other side of her brother, and her eyes flicker to the closest, a woman with dark hair and harsh cheekbones, her eyes serious but soft and willing, reminds her of- of …? Her eyebrows furrow and she looks back to the other elf, confusion showing within them, but he simply utters a name. “Fira.”

 

Oh.

 

Oh!

 

She's _alive_?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? This is why you continue reading. I wouldn't kill them..... would i? ;D
> 
> Da'lan - Little one, little child, female alt to da'len.  
> Ela Falon'Din ma ghi'la, da'lan - May Falon'Din guide you, little one.  
> Mamae - Mother.   
> Lethal'lan - Blood kin, clan mate, very close and dear friend, female alt to lethal'lin.  
> Ar dir'vhen'an - I promise.
> 
> goddamnit i hope they're right because if they're not idk man im just going to shrug and eat my pasta. i trIED.   
> credit to fenxshiral for the elvhen, as always.


	10. Recovery;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oleander's eyes flick open, a breeze alerting him to their rather cold – and alone – circumstances in the middle of the frostbacks, slow, dragged footsteps coming towards them and he's up, shaking his little sister before he can even think of running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @callie why is this late?   
> well im sick and i hate it. pf. sorry. also i had a freak out because i hadn't planned chapters beyond 9, so i had to write those out. no fear, though! we all good now!. x

She likes the way his fingers feel on her skin, gentle pressure on the inside of her wrist, her breath getting caught in her throat at he checks her pulse for the rhythm of her heartbeat, mumbling softly to himself – creators forbid he realises she's holding her breath purposely because of him. His touch is warm, the fire crackling across the room raising the heat considerably, though when she glances up at him, his blue orbs send a shiver across her skin. He notices that. “Are you cold?” There's a blush climbing up her neck and she wants to blame it on the fever, sliding down the bed slightly to hide it. Solas' eyebrows raise slightly and her ears are giving her away, she _knows_ it. “Um..” Maybe if she could elbow Oleander awake in the next two seconds to have him say something witty or _creators_ , just distract him – but what were the chances of _that_? The corner of his mouth lifts slightly as he turns away, and she barely gets time to snuggle into the blankets before Fira's head pokes around the door, eyes narrowed suspiciously, darting between the two of them. “Am I _interrupting something_?” Althrael's eyes dart to Solas, and watches as he turns swiftly, shaking his head before he moves past her sister to exit the barracks. They sit in silence for a moment, Fira watching her suspiciously with furrowed brows, her own ears _betraying_ her as her sister's eyes narrow. “So... where'd you find _that_ hot-” “ _No._ ” “....elf...” An exasperated sigh comes from the other as she moves from the doorway, hands skimming Oleander's bundled up feet to comfort herself slightly, and Ala subconsciously moves closer to him, serving as an elven heater for the other.

“What.... The scouts found a body, Ala. What happened?” Fira's eyes flicker to her and Althrael wants to bury her face into the blankets and never resurface, not even for the hot elf. Her head hits the pillow and she lays there, in the silence, for a moment, unsure on how to say or even talk about what had happened, there. A deep breath is pulled through her lungs and she has to tell her, she _knows_ she does. “When we woke up... You were gone.” She swallows harshly as her mind flickers to the moment of panic, of sheer _fear_ that their sister was _gone_ and they were alone in a place so far from home, among snow and ice and a _giant hole in the sky_. Creators.

 

 

Oleander's eyes flick open, a breeze alerting him to their rather cold – and alone – circumstances in the middle of the frostbacks, slow, dragged footsteps coming towards them and he's up, shaking his little sister before he can even think of running.

The man has a sword, and she almost thinks its one of those Templars they saw marching towards the summit, sword in hand, eyes warily watching every mage that passed by – Fira wanted them to stray off course, didn't want the Templars to hurt them. She almost thinks that it would have been better to follow the path uphill.

His stave is in his hand and Creators he knows that the wounded is a threat before the snarl on the man's face creeps its way into the conversation. “Mage.” He spits, and Ollie’s eyes narrow slightly, hand tightening, the natural born urge to protect the young and kill the predator surfacing within him. The man would be dead if it wasn't for Althrael's hand on his arm – her kindness was going to be the thing to get her killed, he just hopes it wasn't going to happen _now._

“Are you hurt? Creators, you are bleeding! Let us help-” “No!” A growl comes from her brother at the man's tone, and Ala wobbles slightly, the force of the other's voice booming inside her head. “No. No, _you_ caused this! _You_ are the reasons why the conclave was blown up. You.... _mages._ ” Oleander's arm is stretched out in front of her, barring her way to help the human, to heal his wounds. She struggles slightly, but he shoves her behind him, and Creators she's _sick_ of being treated like a fragile child! The man mumbles, and neither see the blade before he speaks, Ollie feeling numb as it slides into him like a hot rod of white pain, his hand tightening on his stave before he can think over it all, the once man falling into a pile of ashes, his words the only sound in the tight air. “The Maker does not love you, and I will do his work!”

Her hands are numb, trying to hold onto her brother as he falls into the snow, hand clutched tightly to his abdomen, wheezing sounds coming from his chest. “Althrael..” She settles him there before running to the pack of supplies they had brought with them, what happened to Fira the furthest thing from her mind at that moment, shaky, scared breaths rattling through her chest as she makes her way back to Oleander with the bandages, things to _heal_ him. For at least long enough until they find help, Creators let there be _help_.

 

 

Her eyes wander over to her brother now, curled up tightly in warm blankets, the wound healing better now that they were somewhere stable, somewhere _warm_. Sobs choke her before she notices they're coming, and Fira's eyes are already red, orbs darting to her, hand reaching out to calm her but its _too much_. “He can't die.” Her own hand flies to her mouth to stop the audible sobs, wanting to curl into a ball beside her brother and pray that he wakes, pray that it is _years_ before he hears the voice of Falon'Din, like babala before he passed to the Beyond. He always said he would die beside her, _protecting_ her – but _Creators_ , not _now_. Please not now.

Fira's arms wrap around her baby sister as tight as she can without hurting her, face buried into her long curls, holding her close while the other sobs tirelessly. She knows that the figure at the door is lingering, eyes sad but yearning, she _knows_ that she cannot stop where ever that may go, she cannot stop Solas from falling for her sister, from _loving_ her. Creators, she _needs_ that. But she also knows that he is pulling himself back, trying to ignore the feelings that are right in front of him – whatever was making him do that, she had to find out before he hurts Ala even more.

 

“It will be alright, da'lan. Everything will be alright, I promise.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my babies. MY SMOL ELF BABIES.
> 
> \--  
> Babala - grandfather  
> Da'lan - (f) little one
> 
> elvhen credit goes to fenxshiral, as always.


	11. Solas;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rivalen and Solas were vastly different in different ways, and somehow Solas seemed to fit Ala more, seemed to seep into the cracks, fill in spaces that had been missing since the twins were born. Where mamae and babae should be, where the life she should have led would have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is... one of my better written chapters.

If there was _one_ thing Fira didn't ever think she would have to do, it would be this. Ala was to marry Rivalen, settle down, have small, tiny footed, curly haired children with their heads constantly in the clouds and she was going to become First, and one day Fira would look at her little sister and say, “Yes. This is what her life was supposed to be.” Clearly the Creators were not listening when they threw herself _and_ her siblings into this exact situation. She's not even _sure_ they were even going to see Rivalen, or the clan, again. How were things going to ever be the same after the breach? After the twins almost dying... or... whatever the gods have planned for Oleander.

So no, she never thought she'd have to sit someone down, and ask their intentions with her little sister, her _baby_ sister, small and fragile and so very _stubborn_ to the point of selfishness. But she never meant to be like that. She never thought she'd see the face of an enemy so in front of her as he – _it_ – dangles her helpless, small body and throws her aside as they deem her unusable. The magister's voice still echoes in her head.

But here they were – and here _she_ was.

 

 

Solas had made his home here, and while they never quite agreed on the topic of the dalish, she knows that he felt _comfortable_ here, a space of his own where he could work and paint the chronicles of their travels upon the walls, the paintings telling more of a story the deeper you looked, more than any words Varric could, and ultimately _would_ , describe them with. Also sleep. Creators wonder if he actually slept at night. She knows somewhere that if she let it bloom, let them decipher whatever they felt for each other themselves, then it would ultimately end in pain and heartbreak and there is no choice between Solas and Althrael, it will always be her sister, her _blood_. So as she pushes open the door to the rotunda, the candles now flickering to stubs after burning all day, the warm evening sun now have set into the night, she knows that whatever he feels for her had to be laid bare, now rather than later, when there's no way out and he has realised that he doesn't feel for her the same way she does him. Because Fira doesn't want to have to choose. Family is family, regardless of blood.

 

“Hello, friend.” Its steady, his voice. Every time she wanders in, whether in passing or to speak with him, its the same sentiment, warm and unwavering, _calm_ in the undying storm around them. A slight smile is on his face as he looks up to her, and she knows that the friendship between them meant something different to both of them, and the warmth he expresses around her is the evidence of that.

 

She wanders in, hands rough with callouses brush his desk slightly and his eyebrows crease, tongue darting out to wet his lips and the library above them is empty, if the rookery isn't, then it is only Leliana and Fira doubts any of this conversation will be needed of her ears. “I came to thank you, Solas. For waking Althrael.” Somewhere a voice is telling her she's weak, that her fear, her pain, was weakness she needed to conquer to finally be something more than just another dalish warrior who accidentally stumbled into something bigger than herself. His mouth moves into an oh before he says it, hands absently moving a book or something on the table in front of him. If she was being critical she would say that he was nervous, or unsure of what was next – but she wasn't. “Your sister is.. I am glad she is awake. Recovering.” He goes to move away, his body turning from her and she can't quite tell if he was running or hiding, or if it was something else entirely. Her hair falls from behind her ear as she looks down, trying to focus on the grain in the wood, trying to figure out what to say without being harsh and demanding, without being _herself_.

 

Rivalen and Solas were vastly different in different ways, and somehow Solas seemed to fit Ala more, seemed to seep into the cracks, fill in spaces that had been missing since the twins were born. Where mamae and babae should be, where the life she should have led would have been. Althrael _needed_ calm, because although she may look as if she is, it is just an illusion, so many different criticisms of herself going around and around in her vast mind and she needed _calm_. And Solas was that.

 

Her eyes glance up to his turned back, the words she was planning to say having leapt from her mind as quickly as they could, and Creators she didn't quite know how to be delicate without forethought. “You are going to ask my intentions.” His voice is loud and echoes slightly, her own question dying in her throat at his statement, hands gripping the edge of the desk as if she was praying he wasn't going to deny it. Which would be the opposite of what she came here to achieve. “I...” Had it been that obvious? If it were, did her fears also show? Cold coloured eyes search his posture for clues, trying to figure out his play by the body language that wasn't being as clear as she'd hoped it would. He knew how to hide himself well. She should be worried about that.

 

She wasn't.

 

His hands move fluidly in front of him, clearing space on the table beside the exit to the battlements, as if he was cleaning only to think, or if he had somewhere to be and this was passing time. Asleep, speaking to spirits and those he calls friends, exploring the fade without a care besides remembering to wake in the morning. To be beside Althrael as she sleeps. As he had been since the twins had gotten here. “I am.” His head bows slightly before he turns, walking slowly back to the desk, hands reaching for the soft covered chair and he squeezes tightly before letting go. Was he checking if it were real? “At first I thought it would be a distraction, I needed time to think. She is.. remarkable, to me.” The corner of his mouth lifts ever so slightly and he closes his eyes, letting a moment pass before they open again, no doubt it was his way of trying to choose the right words. “Needed?” Her prompt causes a soft chuckle, barely audible but enough to echo around the walls of stone. “She changes.... _everything_.” He reaches to clear his desk silently, and she wonders if his pauses are merely for some kind of effect, but the softness with which he speaks of Althrael stops that thought in its tracks. The silence drags on, and Fira almost feels as though he has nothing left to say, orbs glancing around the room, the veilfire behind them the only source of noise, quiet whispers aloud and echoing, making his almost whisper nearly completely unheard within the noise.

 

“Ma vhenan.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah. let me know what you think. always welcome.  
> \--  
> Mamae - Mother.  
> Babae - Father.


	12. Alive;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She has no doubt that as long as they are happy, there will always be light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhhhhhhh. is this the return of the structured posting dates? who knooowsss. probably.

His body shakes, and he can vaguely feel clammy hands trying to hold him still, a voice in the distance panicked and yelling for _someone_... Who is pride? He opens his mouth to gasp for air, his body breathing a sigh of relief as his eyes slowly open to sunlight streaming in through a small window, door cracked open and Althrael, hands pressed against his chest, eyes wide and _worried_. Ala. She lived. Creators, she _lives_. A harsh swallow tears through his throat and his sister laughs breathlessly, his mind coming to, the sound of running footsteps approaching the room in the distance, a hand getting to the door before he sees the person Ala was yelling for. “Lethal'lan!?” The man's voice is screaming fear, his eyes searching frantically before they lay sight upon the da'lan, the fear falling away as he watches her laugh softly before she looks back at him, “He's awake! Solas, he's awake!” The smile on her face settles the other as he wanders towards them, a hand placed on her arm softly, thumb massaging circles into her skin as he motions for her to move over.

Althrael is sitting up on her knees, blanket draped around her shoulders, a happy, sweet smile gracing her features as Solas examines him. Grey eyes flicker between the both of them, from a happy Ala to a calm elf with a wolf's jaw around his neck – he knew what was happening _there_ before he even knew where he was. That _has_ to be a new record. He coughs slightly, swallowing before speaking, his throat dry like that time he forgot to fill his water skin before the clan moved to a different place. “So. You are into my sister, then.” Althrael's eyes flick to him in alarm, and Solas' look up slowly, blue eyes wide and _yes_ , he hit it right on the nail there. More points for him that Ala didn't know. Ah, he loves outing people. “Its alright, she fancies you too.” There's a wink left at the end of that and a hand swats at his arm, a smirk making its way onto his lips, “Ah ah, that only makes you seem more guilty, da'lan.” His eyes slide to her and she huffs, pulling the blanket over her completely and putting her head into her hands, a muffled sigh coming from her little cocoon. “I hate you, Ollie.” Solas' head is bowed slightly, long fingers absently tugging at his sleeve before he turns away, spluttering out something about getting the healer and then taking his leave, hurried footsteps fading as he goes. Oleander's smirk increases. _Yep_.

 

 

Fira finds her way in, later, and just sits beside him as he sleeps, watching his chest rise and fall peacefully, the evening sun streaming in through the window, just enough light left in the day before she had to light the candles to keep away the terrors that lurk in the darkness. Ala wasn't lay beside him like she usually was, and after being avoided all day by Solas, that probably means her brother had said something before _that_ something was ready to come out. Typical. Part of her wanted to laugh, part of her cry. There was a settled feeling within her, now, like that feeling she had when she first met Cassandra, or when she knows she is _right there_ beside her, supporting her, catching her if she breaks, falls, along the way. Except it was all around, now. Light everywhere, disrupting the darkness that their enemy is trying to inflict on them, and Fira has never felt so _safe_ before. Not with the clan, not even when mamae and babae walked with her, hands clasped around hers tightly as she swings, little feet lifting off of the ground in an attempt to know what it was like to _fly_. And then it had all come crashing right down around her, and the only remnants of them were the clothes they left behind, the trinkets and the _twins_. So very small and so very loud with their yelling, but they were _everything_ and she had to protect them like mamae and babae couldn't, not without their spirits coming back into their bodies again.

She was _weightless_ and the light was all around, seeping into every crack and chasing away the dark like it were elfroot to a sickness, to a wound.

 

Her thoughts are pulled from her at the sound of light footsteps approaching, the sound of another following behind slowly causes her to shift around in her seat, only to glance upon Ala and Solas through the just wide enough crack in the door.

 

 

Small hands are pressed against his chest softly, and he can't quite hear anything else but the soft huffs of breath that come from her body, his blue orbs watching hers as they dance with mischief, and suddenly she is _closer_ and Solas can't quite stop himself, hands falling to her waist to pull her in. Their lips meet gingerly, his grip on her waist light but firm and his shoulders _relax_ , pulling her closer so she's flush against him, one of her hands still resting on his chest, the other curled around his neck. They part and he misses her warmth, the softness of her lips against his own, her dull nails digging into his neck like they had before. Before he had been aware of people watching him press her against one of the walls in the rotunda and kiss her roughly, hands tangled into her hair, impatience rising in him because he just couldn't _wait_ any longer. They linger like that for a moment, his head dipping down to place a soft kiss to her lips before he retired for the night, but insistently she pulls at his neck, leaning up for better leverage at his mouth, causing him to chuckle quietly, the rumble in his chest getting a smile from her as she pulls away. He presses a soft kiss to her cheek, lips ghosting over her earlobe, words spilling from his mouth and he knows, _somewhere,_ that this will only complicate things, that it will only end in heartbreak. “Nydha, ma vhenan.”

 

 

Fira glances away from the door as Solas' footsteps retreat, a warm smile gracing her lips, Ala watching the other leave with a longing gaze. She has no doubt that as long as they are happy, there will always be light.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so. that was so cute. THAT WAS SO CUTE OH MY GOD SOLAS.
> 
> also Oleander!!!!!!!! (tHE BIG BROTHER TROLL TO END ALL TROLLS)  
> \--  
> Lethal'lan - Blood kin, clan mate, very close and dear friend, female alt to lethal'lin.  
> Da'lan - Little one, female alt to da'len.  
> Mamae - Mother.  
> Babae - Father.  
> Nydha, ma vhenan - Good night, my heart.  
> -  
> elvhen credit to fenxshiral.


	13. Midnight;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull glances to him, a raised eyebrow half way up his forehead as he takes a swig from his mug, wincing slightly afterwards. He'll never know how the qunari drinks that shit – then again Hawke would if you dared her. Dammit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oleander doesn't have a nickname.  
> No one answered my pleas.  
> well.. lucie did but.. yeah
> 
>  
> 
> #(dickface)  
> \--  
> EDIT: ELFCICLE!!!!!!!!!!

Varric finds him in the tavern, a blanket around his shoulders, bare footed and a smirk on his face. _Almost_ like he wasn't sick at all. Almost. “You looking to get a thump for getting out of bed, elfcicle?” The snowy-haired turns in his seat, his smirk turning into a shit-eating grin, “'m just exploring.” He almost groans internally. Andraste's Tits, not _another_ one. Bull glances to him, a raised eyebrow half way up his forehead as he takes a swig from his mug, wincing slightly afterwards. He'll never know how the qunari drinks that shit – then again Hawke would if you dared her. Dammit. The dwarf sighs and pulls himself onto a chair beside the elf, a half thought spared to tomorrow morning when he would regret what he was about to suggest _and_ get yelled at by Fira _for_ suggesting. Ah, the power of hindsight. He didn't have it. “So, how 'bout a game of wicked grace, then?” “Well, you can count _me_ in.” “Ah, Sparkler..” He sighs into his mug quietly, and he can see Oleander watching Dorian with intent in his orbs from the corner of his vision. Yes, her Inquisitorialness was going to _murder_ him. “Da _mn_.” Its a small whisper from the side of him and Varric wants to groan _outwardly_.

 

“Oh, _please_ , darling. You barely know this game. Let me help you.” “'Tis alright, i've been cheating this whole time.” Oleander finishes his words with a wink the in the Tevinter's direction, causing a low chuckle to come from the other, his eyes glancing down to his own cards before he comes back with a retort. “A _lthough_.. I _could_ use help in.. other places.” Bull snorts, having to put down his mug for a minute, a grin spreading its way onto his face. Dorian narrows his eyes at the white haired, a huff coming from his chest, Varric almost asks if he admits defeat. “You are just cold, darling.”

“I bet you could warm me up, though.” Cards hit the table and Bull is _done_ , his chest rumbling as he laughs, head on the wooden slab and Varric leans back, his eyes on Sparkler as his mouth lifts slightly on one side, that smirk probably a well known visitor there. Oleander's eyes never leave Dorian's as the Tevinter neatly shuffles his cards and adds them to the pile, downing this rest of his mug and getting up gracefully, swanning his way over to the elf. His eyes peer over the other's small shoulder, the cards upside down as he holds them and Dorian _laughs_ and Ollie has never heard a grander sound. _Creators_.

Dorian's lips brush Oleander's ear lobe as he pulls away, and Bull is watching, his gaze returning from the table on which he had thumped his head on previously. He's halfway out the door, hand on the handle as he turns back, “I suppose I could. Aren't you coming, then?”

Varric has never seen a man run so fast with a blanket around him in his life, Sparkler laughing to himself as he follows him, haste seemingly in his own steps. The dwarf's eyes slowly glance to Bull, the qunari's eyebrows raised, words hanging in his mouth but Varric doesn't want to hear _any_ of it. “Don't. Tell Fira.” Bull laughs heartily and he regrets that the words ever came from his mouth.

 

 

He likes it when Althrael gets to the rotunda before him in the morning, her long legs swinging off the side of his table as she's perched on the end of it, humming to herself and daydreaming. It gives him time that he doesn't have to _admire_ her, her small body, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, the soft curves of her breasts – _stop_. Solas has to pull himself from that thought before it goes any further, his feet crossing into the room numbly, his orbs perfectly centred on his vhenan, the curls of her hair falling across her shoulders and he almost hadn't noticed she'd left it down today. His hand runs across her arm softly as he gets to her, ignoring the urge to press a kiss to her cheek to wake her from her dream, her eyes glance to him anyway, his cold hands having woken her. “Hello!” Althrael's cheerful voice is music to his ears and he smiles softly at her before pressing a light kiss to her jaw, the height difference not bothering him that much, her orbs watching him as he wanders to his chair, her body twisting to admire him as he works. It makes him smile, to have her here, beside him, and he makes a mental note to savour this, as it will not be long before... - _no._

 

“Solas?” Her tone is full of curiosity and he _loves_ for a moment before indulging her and looking up, her fingers playing with each other and he tilts his head slightly, reaching out to still them. She was _nervous_. “Ma vhenan?” Solas' eyebrows are furrowed as she looks to him, hands falling from his as she hops off of his desk, moving his side and pressing her lips to his cheek. His hand reaches around her side, resting at her lower back as she reaches for his waist, pulling him around to kiss his lips, her hands exploring and his mind fails him, going blank as it did most of the time when they were as close as this. “Althrael..” He mumbles into her mouth, but whatever he was going to include in his next words were lost as her tongue presses against his lips, almost impatient and he gives her entry, the moon still too high in the sky for anyone to walk in on them in this embrace. His hands push her back gently against the desk and she sighs softly, hands finding the hem of his sweater, her soft uncalloused fingertips making contact with the skin of his chest. Her fingers roam the plains of his chest and he hisses at her cold hands against his warm skin, pulling himself closer to her, sliding a leg between her own as he kisses her more ferociously. He slides a hand from her waist across her waistband and she hums appreciatively as it slips inside, dipping lower. Her soft moans reverberate against the painted stone walls of the rotunda and Solas snarls against her mouth, his lips falling to her neck as her hands fall to his ass.

She comes undone in his arms with a moan of his name and gods, he has never wanted someone _more_ , her shallow breaths leave her chest as she rides out the aftershocks, her mouth falling open in an o shape, her eyes dropping to his, a small whine leaving her as he pulls his fingers from her. His mouth lingers at her ear, teeth pulling at her earlobe, lips leaving a small trail of kisses along her jaw and back to her ear before he speaks. “Not here, vhenan.” He pulls her off of the desk, her behind perched on the end of it where he had pushed her earlier, hand fixing her breeches as her eyes watch him, pupils blown wide. “Later. Where no one could catch us.” His eyes glance to her, lips swollen and teeth pulling at the bottom one, Gods _preserve him._ She reaches out to play with his necklace, his orbs watching her trace the lines in the bone, hands moving before he could _control_ himself. Her laugh echoes around the room as he pulls her out of it and to his room, fully intending to make her make more noises like those she just had.

 

 _Gods_ , this was going to end in heartbreak, and not only just for her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i honestly just got impatient and posted this.  
> you're welcome for the smut  
> even if it was solas holding onto ala like he knew the world was going to end  
> cries
> 
> IMPLIED SMUT AND V MUCH SMUT. AHH KIDS.  
> \--  
> Ma vhenan - My heart.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know when this takes place. who knows. timeline is up in the air. why do i relate all of my characters?


End file.
